its a stifling heat
shrouded in a blueness
that is not my own
and i'll rush to the foot of these stairs
to see you worn into the
threads of this dirty carpet
hopelessly drowning
and whispering all your memories
seductively
into the pit of a glass jar
for me
to keep on my shelf
that i might see it with the backs
of my eyelids
everytime i fall asleep to the sound
of footsteps pounding in the hallway.

the power of never knowing loss is pervasive
and strangely unfortunate.